Forces of Destiny
by October Sea Breeze
Summary: In Azkaban sanity slips away quicker than you think and now Scabior was waiting for the thing that would never happen to happen.  Scabior/Greyback
1. Love & Loss

Slash: don't like, don't read. Greyback/Scabior. I don't own Harry Potter of course.

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><p><strong>Love &amp; Loss<strong>

Scabior stared at the stormy sea through the gap of missing bricks. His forehead rested against the cold wall, his eyes having a dead glaze. Dementors flew past him but he couldn't care less. The wind blew his greasy hair backwards and against his face, letting his stick to his equally greasy cheek. He placed the string loosely back behind his ear and tugged the piece of cloth that functioned as shirt closer to his body, hugging himself.

His sanity slipped away a bit more with every minute that passed and his strength to fight against the Dementors seemed to go away even faster. His last happy thought seemed to disappear a bit more every second. Even his lover's face got blurry.

Crying was something he didn't do. Something he couldn't do. He had no tears left in his body; every tear had left when he entered Azkaban. He hadn't gotten the chance to warn the other, no chance to tell him the news. And now his love wandered around out there, biting people at random because Scabior wasn't there to prevent him from it. The world was in an even worse shape knowing that he was imprisoned. But he had seen in the eyes of Dumbledore that the bearded realized he was telling the truth when he had cried out about the werewolf as he was carried away by the Dementors.

But there he sat, in his own little cell, the screams of the others sounding so far away. Sometimes he wondered how Black got out a while ago, on other moments he thought of the werewolf and his habits and sometimes he just tried to do something else like eat or sleep; both being difficult for him. Mostly he just thought of his love's face and that the elder would come and save him one day. Deep inside – a thought that was actually rising from that depth due to the Dementors – he knew that he would never been rescued by his werewolf, especially not soon as the other probably didn't know where he was and as the full moon was going to appear in a few days.

He stared at the moon, his eyes filled with sadness. One single tear escaped, sliding down before dripping into his hand, right onto a scar the other had made there in the heat of a moment. The wound was still a bit open and the salty water pricked it. He clenched his fist, his long nails leaving red marks in the dirty, pale skin. His bones were visible, that bad he already looked.

His hand moved up, the horns of the stag-head on his ring scratching through the quite long stubble on his cheek. He was getting so tired, his memories so depressing. The older's face blurred away to a very bad picture taken from a mile away. He clung onto a memory of them together, so long ago. The first memory of them alone, together, away from everyone else. The first time he actually saw a more gentle side of the normally so brute man. A side that had disappeared within days. A side that was almost always shown after a moment of brutishness. But Scabior still loved him, that was something that would never change. And he knew the werewolf returned that love, although in a more brutal way. A way only he could accept and a way the other could only give to him. But he was so tired. The pain had to leave him.

His hand fell down, eyes shut. His head fell on the bottom of the gap, blood immediately streaming out of the wound it made. He started to feel dizzy but reached out one hand to the moon. As if he hoped that the other would take it, but it was more likely a Dementor would take it. If he could only imagine that it was the other's hand.

"Fenrir." _Greyback._


	2. The Day the Moon Howls

Fenrir jumped off the wall, right in front of what was becoming his dinner. No more people who could prevent him, he was finally free again. And alone. His eyes flickered dangerously as he scanned her. They froze when they reached her lower body. Her legs were clothed with tight, plaid trousers. Plaid trousers that looked so familiar. A lump formed in his throat. Way too familiar. Yet he wouldn't admit to himself that they reminded him of someone. He swallowed with some trouble, but it didn't want to leave. The flicker in his eyes died a bit down, the heat and fun of the hunt disappearing for something else. Anger.

His hand moved so quickly that the girl didn't notice until it was too late. She fell onto the ground, looking up but her attacker had already disappeared. He sprinted away from the place. Betrayed. The other had betrayed him. Just abandoned him like a dog. His wolfish nature began to boil just beneath the human surface. His fist clenched in anger as the other hand ripped open a curious person's face. The man sank onto the ground, but he couldn't have cared less about it. Little voices in his head told him everything Scabior had once told him, but the more he thought of it, the more another emotion entered his brain. And just an emotion he didn't want to admit that he knew it. That he could even feel it.

He tried to push it away, but it kept coming back. Together with something else that he couldn't deny. Addiction. He longed for the man, harder than ever. Just because he had complete control over the man. Love, what the hell. How could someone like him ever be in love? He had needs, but to really love someone? No. Love was something for humans. For people who knew weaknesses. People who were afraid of everything. People like the scarf obsessed. People who had in fact something to fight for.

But the scarf obsessed wasn't there and he was running away from nothing more than emotions he didn't want to have. 'I'm not' he kept telling himself as he ran through dark alleys, every person he passed he killed like they were all responsible for the disappearance of the other. They weren't, but in their own way they all reminded him of him. A manner of speaking, the clothes they were wearing. Everyone had something that reminded him. But he would never admit that, he was too proud to admit that. Too attached to his own rules of being independent and show no love to anyone. Not even the ones you fell in love with. Not that he had fallen in love with the other.

He stared at the moon, his eyes filling with happiness. Finally a full moon in the open. No more people to lock him up every moon so he wouldn't kill anyone. But the times were back, he could officially live a werewolf life again. Did he want to live like that? He didn't know.

Deep inside, he knew. Deep inside, he knew that he was it. That he had always been it. Deep down in his heart he was. In Love and afraid of losing his...

"_Scabior."_

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><p><strong>AN:** Forgot to say. _Love & Loss_ and _Forces of Destiny_ are tracks by instrumental band _Two Steps From Hell. The Day the Moon Howls _is a song of metal band _Diablo Blvd _(the Greyback-part is a bit based on that).

R&R?


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